Roger's Always Been an Ass
by Sonata Rapp
Summary: Roger is an asshole. Always has been, always will be. But there is one person who can make him feel bad about it. More interesting than it sounds, I promise. Rated for language. Please R


Roger's Always Been an Ass

Roger Davis had always been an asshole. From the time he was eleven, sarcastic comments would slip out from between his lips and someone's feelings would be hurt. He never really did it on purpose and he never felt bad about it later. Well, almost never. There had been exactly three times in his entire life that his innate ability to be a douche bag had made him unhappy, and each and every time it had something to do with Mark Cohen.

The first time was in sixth grade when Mark first came to Scarsdale Junior High. He started school a week after everyone else because he had caught pneumonia over the summer. When Roger heard about it, he laughed. Who the hell got sick in the summer? When Mark turned up that Monday, Roger could instantly pick him out. He was short, skinny, and pale. His blond hair stuck up in odd directions and he just exuded the air of a klutz. But the worse part were the thick glasses that the boy had to keep shoving up on his nose. It could be seen as either mean or charitable that Roger waited until lunchtime to torment him.

Mark walked past the table where Roger was sitting by himself. His book bag was full and dangling off his arm as the boy struggled to keep it and his lunch tray from falling. Without ceremony, Roger stuck his foot out and Mark tripped, landing flat on his face. His tray went into the air and turned over, dumping Monday Meatloaf Surprise all over the back of his head.

"Nice one four eyes." Roger said to him.

Mark looked up and into the other boy's green eyes and felt his blue ones swim with tears. Roger was taken aback. He'd never made anyone cry before. That was the one thing that had always separated him from the bullies that he so despised.

"Hey. I'm…I'm sorry." Roger said quickly. He stuck his hand out to help Mark up. "Look, that was dumb of me." Mark just stood there wiping his nose with his sleeve. "You uh, you wanna sit down?"

The nerdy boy nodded slowly. "I'm Mark." He whispered.

"Roger."

The second time happened much later in his relationship with his best friend. They had been living in the loft for almost two years when Mark came in, his face red and his eyes squeezed shut. "Um…short date." Roger remarked. Mark was supposed to be out with Maureen, it was like their anniversary or something like that.

"Last date." Mark replied. His eyes were still shut as he walked the familiar path over to the couch and next to Roger. "It's over."

"What? Why? What happened?" Roger wanted to know.

"You'll laugh." Mark assured him.

"Oh come on I will not. Tell me."

Mark sighed. "She was…sleeping…"

"And?" Roger prompted, impatient.

"With…another…"

"Oh god, with another guy?"

"Another…woman." The filmmaker finished. He opened his eyes finally and looked at his best friend.

Roger's face was as red as Mark's, only not from mortification. His cherry hue was from holding in the laughter. _Be good. _Roger mentally scolded himself. _Mark's hurting; he needs Roger the friend, not Roger the asswipe._

"Well?" Mark urged.

There was a moment of silence, then, _"God_ Mark! Only_ you_ are a big enough _spaz_ to turn Maureen Johnson, the biggest whore in town, into a lesbian. Do you know that she's fucked every member of every band I've ever been in since tenth grade? All male, _until_ you came along." With that, Roger collapsed in laughter.

Mark heaved a breath and let his head fall into his hands. Roger just kept laughing. He was waiting for the usual 'fuck you Rog' that followed one of his laughing fits. None came. The musician looked up at his best friend.

"Aw jeez, are you crying again?" Roger asked with a groan. "Shit man, I didn't mean to laugh at you. It's just fucking ironic that a guy as nice and caring as you are would be the one to turn Maureen. Usually it's the assholes that do it."

"I just don't understand what went wrong." Mark moaned between his fingers.

Roger pulled the smaller man against him. "Don't worry about it man. You're going to find someone who'll love you madly until the day they die. I know it."

He was right. About a year and a half after that moment Roger finally confessed his love to Mark. They dated for three years and it was wonderful. Until that is, it became too much for Mark to handle and Roger faced his third and final time of regretting his words and actions with his best friend.

Roger had been getting steadily sicker. The cough wouldn't go away and lesions started to form on his chest and thighs. **(A/N: Do lesions form there?) **Mark slowly drew away from his lover as his health degenerated. One day, he decided that he couldn't do it anymore.

"Roger, I think maybe we should…not…do this." He said one night as they lay in bed together.

The other man was in the middle of a coughing fit, but he still heard what he said. "So you want to abandon me now, huh?" he laughed bitterly. "What took you so long? You could have been spared this sight if you'd dropped me earlier."

"I'm not dropping you Roger." Mark whispered. "I'm stepping back, for your health."

"Bull shit Mark. Bull fucking shit! I'm DYING you fucktard. There's no health left in me to step back for. There's nothing left!" Roger coughed again and breathed heavily. "You know what? I'm glad I'm dying. If you're going to fucking pussy out now then I'm glad I'm headed to hell soon."

Mark had paled and gone rigid long before Roger had finished his rant. When he got to the end, the filmmaker dropped to the floor and sobs racked his body. He burbled incoherently as Roger watched in astonishment. _He_ was supposed to be the one that was pissed, not Mark.

"Shit. I'm sorry Mark. That was dumb. I'm so sorry." Roger said quickly.

Mark glared up at him through his tears, his icy blue eyes glinting with anger. "Shut up Roger. I'm not twelve years old anymore you ass. You can't just soothe this away like you did when you tripped me. I fucking love you and you're dying. How the FUCK can you expect me to just sit back and watch?"

"I expect it because there's nothing else you can do." Roger murmured.

"I KNOW THAT!" Mark shouted at him. He got up off the floor and stormed out of the loft.

Later that evening, he returned to see the flashing blue and red lights of the ambulance that was parked outside the building. His heart sank instantly as he watched the EMT's carry out a body on a stretcher. Maureen and Joanne were standing next to the vehicle, both of them sobbing.

Mark knew what had happened, and yet strangely he felt devoid of any emotion. He went around to the back of the building and climbed up the fire escape and through the window to the loft. Everything was as it always was. His projector and reels set up in one corner, and Roger's guitars and amps in another, just as it always had been. But Mark knew there had to be something, something that was different. He remembered a night similar to this one and walked towards the bathroom. There, taped to the mirror was a piece of notebook paper covered in Roger's handwriting.

_Mark_, it read.

_I know, I know. Dumb and cliché taking the 'April way out' but I only had days left. You didn't want to watch me die. So you didn't. Look, I'm an ass. I always have been. Whoever's in charge of wherever I'm going will probably have me in time out all the time. The only times I've ever felt bad about being as douche-y _**(A/N: thanks to my friend Jesse for this word)**_ as I can be is when I hurt you. I don't want to hurt you anymore. So I promise this will be the last time. You know there was one good thing about making you sad. I got to comfort you afterwards. Remember when I laughed at you about Maureen? And I said that you'd find someone who'd love you until the day they died? I did, Mark. I loved you so much. Still do. And if there's any love at all where I'm going, my share's all for you. Please Mark, keep living for me. Please. And you know… get in a snarky remark at Maureen every once in a while for me as well. _

_Love,_

_ Your friendly neighborhood asshat_

Roger 

Mark chuckled in spite of himself. Yes, Roger had always been an asshole. But he was an asshole that was loved.


End file.
